


Even anarchist vans have closets sometimes

by Azure_Lynx



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Amanda is a sweetpea, Braids, But it all turns out really well, Coming Out, Flowers, Fluff, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Gripps, Kisses, Listen this is a stressful experience ok, Multi, Nonbinary Character, enjoy, gender stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Lynx/pseuds/Azure_Lynx
Summary: She was dating his pack mates and she clearly wanted to date him too. And it wasn't like he wasn't hopelessly in love with her anyway. It was just - there were things she didn't know, and he didn't exactly know how to tell her either. Gender shit is difficult like that sometimes.





	Even anarchist vans have closets sometimes

He had never fallen in love with a woman before.

There had been precious few people in general Gripps felt anything for besides his pack. Gay bars led to one night stands with men who would never even try to understand his gender, but every once in awhile, he felt things. Made an effort. Wasn’t always disappointed.

But at least the guys he dallied with outside of the Rowdy 3 were all queer. When women showed interest in him, they always turned out to be straight, and he always politely declined with a sour taste in his mouth. What about him was appealing to straight women anyway?

But _she_ was beautiful and kind and wild and he loved her. Amanda Brotzman had single-handedly ruined his life in the best way possible. 

She’d been romantically involved with the rest of them for months. Only Gripps was holding out, and he knew she had no idea why, and he really didn’t want to be, but he just couldn’t. Not if she saw him as a man. 

But at the same time, he kind of wanted to just rush in with it, experience the same joy as the others when they kissed her. They let him feel it too, perhaps out of sympathy because they knew it was eating him alive. It was sweet, but it also made him ache all the worse. 

Leaning back against the wall of the van, he looked down at his beloved brick. What a mess he’d become. The raindrops hitting the roof of the van gently seemed to try to comfort him, but even they knew he was losing it over just one girl. 

She was a very special girl. 

Martin cracked one eye open, looking at Gripps from where he lay on the floor of the van. “Tell her,” he suggested simply. 

Gripps shifted on the bench, nodding. He felt bad that his emotional turmoil had disturbed Martin’s nap, but the alpha had a point. She would never know if he didn’t tell her he wasn’t one hundred percent a dude. 

Amanda was fast asleep, head on Martin’s stomach, curled up in a ball, Martin’s hand tangled in her hair. She looked so peaceful and content. This was her home now. An overwhelming feeling of love and protectiveness bubbled up within him and warmed every inch of him. He wanted to hold her and take good care of her. 

He hugged his brick. She was sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by his emotions the way his packmates were. He wouldn’t wake her; he would take this time to think.   
It all depended on how much she knew about nonbinary genders. It was always dependent on others, how you had to handle these things. That irked Gripps, but he didn’t really see anything he could do about it. He squeezed his brick tighter. 

She was a pretty cool gal, and clearly her brother had a thing for the British detective, so she must have been exposed to _some_ queer culture before. Maybe she was even queer herself, but that seemed to Gripps like it might be wishful thinking.

“She wears leather like a pro, dude. Def bi,” Cross mumbled sleepily. He pushed himself off the ground and sat next to Gripps, laying his head on Gripps’ shoulder. “You worry too much. We know she’s cool.”

Gripps nodded, staring down at his brick thoughtfully. He’d had this brick longer than he’d known the Rowdies - it was the first thing he’d gone back for when they busted out of Blackwing custody. The brick was constant, unbreakable. As long as he had it, he knew things would be ok.

“That’s the spirit.” Cross nibbled his ear and Gripps couldn’t help but smile.

“Go back to sleep,” he suggested. He’d offered to watch while they all napped for a reason. It defeated the purpose if no one actually napped. 

Cross nodded, sliding back down on the van floor and resting his head in Vogel’s lap. “Ni’ night.” Within seconds, he was out again. 

Amanda yawned and rolled over, blinking blearily at Gripps. She rose unsteadily, stretching out every inch of her, and he was transfixed. It might have been his imagination, but he thought she might be showing off for him, just a little. The thought made him smile.

“Is the rain over?” she asked. He cocked his head, listening, but sometime during his thoughts it had ceased. He shook his head at her. “Let’s go outside, then,” she suggested, carefully picking her way out of the van so as not to disturb her sleepy boys. 

They found some wet rocks and sat down, not caring about soaking their pants. He supposed it was like laundry, in a sense. 

She looked at him intently. “So spill,” she demanded. “What did I do? Why have you been so distant these days? Should I not have kissed you? It’s cool if you don’t want to be my boyfriend, you know. You don’t have to.” She rambled when she was nervous. Gripps thought it was pretty cute.

“I don’t -” He began haltingly. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend.” 

Her face fell, but she nodded. “Ok. Ok, that’s cool. Friendship is cool. We’re cool. We are definitely cool. So cool. Friendship. Cool.” She stopped. “We’re cool, right?”

“Amanda.” He took her slender hands in his. They were calloused from drumming, and they felt so right. “You didn’t let me finish. I don’t want to be your boyfriend because I’m not a boy. I’d rather be your - your significant other, or your datemate, or your boo.” 

She cracked a smile at that last one, understanding evident. “Ok, we can definitely roll with that. So what do I call you? Are male-coded terms off limits? What about pronouns, _boo_?” She placed a heavy emphasis on the last word and he chuckled.

“He/him is fine. I’m genderqueer but those are comfortable.” He shrugged. “Like my beanie or my brick.” He’d left the brick in the van, but it didn’t seem like he’d actually need it.

“I like your beanie.” She reached over with one hand and tugged on it. “It suits you. Just like he/him or ‘datemate.’”

“You don’t think it’s silly?” he asked, uncharacteristically shy. 

“Not if you like it.” Her free hand came to rest on his cheek, while the other stayed clasped tight with his. “If you like it, I like it, dude. Can I call you ‘dude’?” Her concern, though an afterthought, was overwhelming. It rolled off her like water. 

“That's fine.” He nodded. “You're fine.”

She leaned over, slipping a little on the damp rock, and laid her head in his lap. Instinctively, his fingers started curling in it and playing through. She purred happily, a house cat among the wolf pack. The fiercest damn house cat he'd ever seen. 

“I'm sorry I've been getting it wrong,” she said after some silence. “Like I know I didn't know but I also know it fucking sucks. You're very strong, you know that?” She wiggled her body to turn and face up at him. “Dealing with this all the time in a world that refuses to get people like you.”

“Darling, this is my world.” He gestured at the clearing, parked van with sleeping Rowdies and the rocks and the trees and the two of them. “If I have this, I'm happy. But thank you.” He kissed her forehead. “You don't know how much that means to me.”

He left a smear of nude lipstick on her forehead. She laughed, clearly able to feel it, but swatted his hand away when he went to wipe it off. “Leave it. I like it.”

After some more silence, he got up the nerve to reference orientation. “So you're bi,” he broached the subject carefully. 

She nodded. “Even more now than I was yesterday, I suppose, now that I know. Attracted to three whole genders.” Gripps felt himself relax and basked in the sweet relief. She laughed at her own thoughts. “What would my mother say if she saw me now?”

“'Congratulations on your taste in men and the like. Please don't bring them home for the holidays,’” Gripps suggested. He'd heard Amanda and her mother bicker on the phone before. She didn't exactly approve of her daughter's lifestyle. 

Fuck that. She should appreciate having her wonderful child still in her life. Gripps tensed a little, thinking of his own family. Once again, Riggins’ words played through his head. _“Your family misses you, Gripps.”_

He let out a small whine, and Amanda twirled expertly upwards so she was in his lap. “Hey, hey, babe. Gripps.” She laid her forehead against hers. “You're ok. I got you. What's up?”

“Nothing.” He buried his face in her neck, breathing deep. She smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and drugstore perfume and fast food and _them._ This was his family. “I love you.”

She startled. Took a beat. He worried he'd overwhelmed her - it was usually unspoken amongst the crew. But he wanted to tell her. 

“I love you too,” she replied, and then she kissed him. 

He pulled her into him and she was _so small_ and that always surprised him for whatever reason. She shoved her fingers under his beanie to play with his hair and he returned the favor. His hair hadn't been washed in a couple weeks, but neither had hers, and they didn't even care. 

They could find a river to bathe in later. The thought excited him - he wanted to wash her hair and massage her scalp and make her purr again, the way she was doing right now against his mouth. 

She nipped at his lip and sucked on it a little bit, and then he returned the favor. She turned her mouth to his jaw and pressed light bites and kisses along the line. He smiled and let her work and basked in the love. 

When she came up for air, she grinned at him almost drunkenly. “I have wanted to do that for so long,” she exhaled. Her mouth was smeared with his lipstick, and she looked blissed out. 

He laughed, twining his fingers through her hair again. “Me too.”

She got up, a little wobbly as circulation returned to her legs, and stumbled over to the nearby brush. He watched curiously to see what she was doing, admiring the attention she paid to her work as she plucked some wildflowers and held them in her hand. 

When she was finished, she turned back to Gripps and thrust them in his direction. “Flowers for my flower,” she said teasingly, a note of irony tilting her words upwards. 

“Thank you,” he replied, kissing her lightly. She sat on the rock beside him and he gently swiveled her so her back was to him. He laid the flowers in his lap and ran his fingers through her hair. Carefully, he began to braid her hair, pausing to lay flower stems along the bundles of hair. When he finished, she had a long, beautiful braid full of wild flora, and she looked like the most punk-ass elf queen to walk this Earth.

Gripps was in love. 

“I feel really pretty,” Amanda told him, not turning around quite yet. “Does it look pretty?”

“Beautiful.” He pulled her close and put his chin on her shoulder. “So beautiful.” 

A weight was lifted off his chest, and he could’ve stayed like this forever. Of course, inevitably, Vogel woke up and was bouncing off the trees and Martin wanted to get a move on, find some dinner for Amanda and a bag of fries for Cross. The stillness and peace of the moment were shattered. 

They weren’t particularly well-suited for stillness and peace, anyway. He wouldn’t change a thing about his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for a coming out fic just floating in my head. I wanted to make something predominantly Gripps/Amanda, though of course with the rest of the Rowdies in the background. I love my polyamorous pack, I do. Genderqueer Gripps is a headcanon I really enjoy, so I thought I'd share it with the world. Let me know what you think!


End file.
